


Don't Wake A Sleeping Lion

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst and Porn, Basically, Blow Jobs, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Forced Piss Drinking, Hand Jobs, Imperiused Sex, Inspired by..., Just smut, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Religious Guilt, Rimming, Rough Sex, Someone stop me, Somnophilia, Too....many.religious....metaphors, Watersports, also news flash im the worst, but credence aint perfect, graves is not a nice guy, more from fear than fun, my own damn request to Funkzpiel, potion induced sleep, super duper, surprise, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 07:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Graves has a hard time sleeping after escaping Grindelwald, and so he uses a dreamless sleep draught. Credence thinks his love is unrequited, so he takes what he can get.How long can he get away with it?





	Don't Wake A Sleeping Lion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WaywardGraves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGraves/gifts), [Funkspiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Funkspiel/gifts).



> this is 10x longer and darker woopsy.
> 
> http://funkzpiel.tumblr.com/post/161083767384/delicacies-of-love

The first night Mister Graves took the sleeping draught, he told Credence it would be a dreamless night, and in a proper ten hours, he’d be back on his feet, alert, and ready to make their breakfast, as per usual. It was for his own health, well being and recovery. Credence was so unused to sleeping in a real soft bed, he’d found the transition easy. However, he had also not been held hostage and tortured for days on end.

Credence felt guilt for many things, and that was merely one of them. _He_ should have been the one cooking for them both, cleaning the apartment while the man was at work, doing everything he could to try and pay back Mister Graves for his kindness. He knew that anything that the man did was only being done for him out of some sense of obligation, for the magical world having accidentally ignored him, forgotten to send him a letter to some _Ivy Morning_ school.

It didn’t matter.

Ma taught him to read and write, and do some math, all in the name of being a better servant to the Lord, to be able to better distribute His words of wisdom and mercy granted to those who obeyed.

Credence was far beyond that, and would never be saved.

Not with the forbidden wants and desires burning inside him, and infecting him further, like some sort of never-ending fever. The moments where he caught himself looking at Mister Graves, he would immediately self chastise, and vow to punish himself later for such transgressions.

The man didn’t deserve to be objectified as he was in Credence’s unconscious thoughts. But he was lost, unable to help himself, having strayed much too far from the path of righteousness now. He wanted to do more than look upon that handsome brow, to do more than sit across the table and enjoy meaningless chatter about polite things with the man.

What Credence really wanted, was to know how it would feel to be _kissed_ , but not by some passing pretty thing on the sidewalk, or any of the lovely creatures who populated cinema screens. No, quite impossibly, Credence dreamed of _Mister Graves’_ lips on his own.

It was for that reason that he decided upon a compromise, and an experiment took root in his mind, about what if, _what if_ , while the man enjoyed his deep dreamless, potion induced magical enhanced sleep, he indulged when it could hurt neither of them?

What he hadn’t expected was the scene he came upon when he followed the man into his bedroom, around ten in the evening, two hours past the mark when he would have drank his potion. Mister Graves had gotten out of his vest and dress shirt easily enough, but seemed to have passed out on the way back from the bathroom, draped over his bed, on his side, cheek resting upon his arm, with his other hand braced at the waistband of his trousers.

Credence’s heartbeat thundered in his ears as he stepped closer, openly admiring the expanse of the man’s muscled back and arms which he could see, and the dip of his spine leading to the still covered curve of his backside was enough to make his skin heat, and his cock thicken between his legs.

Oh, his Mister Graves was beautiful like that.

He mentally corrected himself that of course, the man would _never_ be his, but he was so near that he could just hold out a hand, and drag his fingers over the corded muscle of one of the man’s biceps, so nothing else mattered in the moment. Not as he gently nudged the man onto his back, so he could properly look, and prepare for the kiss he would steal.

Like out of the common fairy tales, it was merely Credence playing the prince, while secretly acting the villain. He crawled onto the bed, looming over Mister Graves’ bare torso, and his fingers itched while his hands shook, before finally landing gracelessly on the man’s shoulders, gripping harder and harder until he was certain that nothing he did would wake the man, so he leaned in, and delicately pressed his mouth to the man’s slightly parted and dry lips.

He couldn’t just _ignore_ his arousal, not when he’d been assured constantly day in and day out that nothing he did or wanted was wrong, even if the man was only aware of small inconsequential things he feared massive repercussions for; like eating the wrong meat on the wrong day, forgetting to pray before meals, or worse, indulging in the sin of enjoying the occasional glass of wine, when not on a Sunday.

He palmed over his cock, hot and throbbing through his sleep pants, and he let a groan slide past his lips, before pulling back, and staring down at the man’s relaxed face, handsome, clean shaven, disturbed only by a stray strand of grey streaked brown hair spilling over his forehead.

Credence reached up to push it back out of the way, and then found himself caressing the man’s cheek, letting his thumb drag over his bottom lip, and wishing, desperately that he could do that while the man was awake.

His cock was leaking insistently now, a wet spot had soaked through the thin fabric, and though he was certain he wasn’t far from finishing, he couldn’t be selfish, even now, even where he was, as he _was_ being entirely self indulgent. He put his hand to the man’s neck, down his chest, daringly brushing a finger over one of the man’s nipples, shocked the moment it hardened to his touch, and wondering if he should stop what he was doing, leave the man’s room, and steal a frantic climax in his own bed.

He didn’t really want to.

Mister Graves’ chest moved slowly with each deep breath as he slept, and Credence held still, just listening to the sound of it for a moment, then the man shifted, moving in his sleep, unconsciously reaching out, and throwing an arm over his back, stunning him, almost making him squeak in surprise. The man’s heavy and strong grasp notwithstanding, Credence had only been lucky enough to be caught in his embrace twice, hugged once when they first reunited, and again, the night he confessed it was his birthday.

That had been a wonderful evening, and over the firelight and after a glass each of champagne, frantic hope had bloomed inside his chest, praying for a chance, a goodnight kiss, only to be dashed to pieces every time the man looked away from him, and then eventually they parted ways for the night.

Mister Graves had been taking the sleep potion for two days, when all the while Credence had wrestled with himself, with inner demons, ma might have said.

It had all been leading to that, the moment of his greatest weakness, or rather, the ending of his fight against his nature.

So there he was, frozen with his hand hovering over the man’s stomach, wondering how much further he could go, how many more boundaries could he cross, what violations would he allow himself to commit?

He already knew, deep down.

His mouth went dry, and his cock twitched, ignored for another long instant, though painfully hard now, he set his hand down, and slowly traced the line of dark hair that vanished beneath the waistband of Mister Graves’ pants. Surely he wouldn’t be happy to know he’d fallen asleep in his nice work trousers? Wouldn’t it be helpful of Credence to properly undress him for bed?

He didn’t believe himself for a second, but lying, being able to deceive himself felt good, even as everything else was so horribly wrong. When he concentrated on it, and put his own pleasure to the wayside, he was able to get the man out of his pants rather quickly, and carefully tugged them all the way off, past ankle garters and dark navy socks, to fold them up and set them in the same chair the man’s shirt and vest were draped over.

Now all that remained were his delicate silk boxers, and Credence decided that was good enough, no need for any more to be removed. He could sneak a look, and then pretend he would leave with some of the man’s dignity still intact.

Mister Graves’ skin was just so _warm_ , and Credence didn’t know if it was a side effect of the potion, or the man simply always ran a bit hotter than the rest of the world. He returned to the man’s side, and carefully petted over one of his muscled thighs, before pulling his hand up, up towards the soft fabric hem, and then his fingers skittered across the man’s groin.

He wasn’t frightened of anything but himself at that point, and when his fingers curled beneath the waistband of the man’s underwear, he was certain he’d chicken out before doing much else, so he yanked, with a sense of finality, as pure dread started to form, curdling in his gut.

Oh.

Credence was instantly mortified by the thoughts that flared to life in his mind, his wretched sinful brain, from the mere sight of the man’s cock, even in repose, resting atop his thigh.

He didn’t let go of the man’s underwear, prepared at any moment to hide the organ once more, but he _did_ put his free hand to his own groin, palming himself, comparing in his mind, with just his eyes to gauge how different they were.

Where Credence’s cock lengthened and seemed to gain a couple finger widths upon arousal, Mister Graves’ couldn’t possibly do the same without becoming obscene, thick and long as he was, with a perfect shade of pink to the tip, the bulb of the head almost pretty, and the thought was ridiculous, but God help him, he wanted to kiss it.

Letting his fingers go near it seemed a bad idea, what if it felt bad, and caused the man to wake up?

He couldn’t imagine what Mister Graves would do to him if he was caught in such a manner.

But leaving now?

Impossible.

Credence swallowed and then put his hand to the man’s cock, a moan falling from his lips as the pure _soft_ ness of skin, though it was certainly identical to his own, it could not feel the same, unless someone else were to touch _him_.

That would never happen, he knew. Not when all he wanted, _who_ he wanted, was the sleeping man before him.

He suspected the second he put his hand to his cock, skin to skin, he’d be gone, unable to stop himself from coming, making a mess of either his hand or his pants, so he had to make a decision, to continue with himself, or worship Mister Graves further.

It was already nearly midnight, and he didn’t want to be completely exhausted tomorrow, from all that had transpired, so there was only one thing to be done. Conclude the adventure in depravity, and beg forgiveness.

Credence watched the man’s face intently as he lowered himself to place a chaste, closed mouth kiss to the end of the man’s length, before carefully tucking it back into his boxers. Mister Graves didn’t stir at all, but his hand did twitch, and reached out blindly, accidentally bumping into Credence’s knee.

He wanted to take it in his own hand, to guide the man’s broad palm to his own cock, and try to finish like that, but it would be in vain. He wasn’t yet the best at the cleaning spell yet, and that would surely be the end of him if he left the man dirty.

So he slid back, and away, putting some distance between their bodies, until finally slipping his hand below the waistband of his sleep pants, and gripping tightly over his own cock, shivering as the sensations were allowed to wash over him, staying upright only from his free hand braced at the end of the bed frame.

The second he rubbed his thumb over the pre slicked head of his cock, he was coming, wet hot pulses of liquid shooting into his fingers, which he barely moved in place to cover in time.

Credence was jelly kneed, and he ran to wash his hands in the bathroom, hoping he could sleep now, with his lustful nature sated.

For the night at least.

 

 

 

* * *

 

The next time he went to visit Mister Graves after he had his potion, the man got done with his preparations for bed, and so Credence found him tucked into his sheets, hidden beneath a blanket, and his cheek resting on a pillow.

There was no need to put on a robe, and go to Mister Graves’ room, but Credence did it anyway. That was all he allowed himself to put on, for it would make everything else easier. Revealing the man’s body to his eyes reminded him of a strange twisted Christmas morning unwrapping of presents.

Mister Graves’ hands were entwined, atop his chest, rising and falling with every deep breath, and to Credence, the man had never been so strong looking while also so relaxed.

Credence only touched with the purpose to learn, to observe. He had sought his own pleasure _before_ bed, so that now, he could be better, so he could truly pay back Mister Graves tonight. The man’s cock would wait for his attention, though he did note that a kiss here and there, and a flick against a nipple made it twitch. Emboldened, he tried it on himself, pinching harder than he’d ever dare to do to the man, and a gasp crawled out of his throat.

His cock nudged insistently against the silky fabric of his robe, which was the only layer keeping him hidden from anyone, from the man, should the potion fail, and he awaken.

Credence found himself more excited than frightened of such a thing happening, and he wondered absentmindedly when his sense of recklessness had outstripped his sense of guilt.

Probably after the first stolen kiss, and subsequent climax.

He hesitated only a moment before climbing into bed with the man, hardly touching him but for a knee pressed against a thigh, and his hand was ever exploring, before he halted it on the man’s cock, stroking once with purpose.

Mister Graves shifted in his sleep, and his jaw slacked, as he began to breathe through his mouth.

_‘My cock would fit in there.’_

Credence cringed at his own thought, true though it might have been. He would never, he would _never_.

_‘But would it be so much worse?’_

Yes.

It would.

But he wanted to do it anyway.

He grazed his thumb over the slippery head of the man’s cock, and whimpered as he felt more wetness seep out, just enough to slick his skin, and dry somewhat sticky.

He put the thumb into his mouth before he could think better of it, and the salty taste made him grow a touch harder, he thought.

He wouldn’t touch himself, not yet.

But oh, he _needed_ it.

Credence’s hand grasped over his own cock, hard as he dared, intent on staving away his own pleasure, pausing things, or at least slowing them down, but since pain had become his reality for so long, when it mingled with arousal, he became confused.

It felt dizzying, good melting with bad, and culminating in wickedness.

He feared he might drip on the carpet or the sheets, but Mister Graves’ mouth was quite far away, a long distance to crawl, and a certainly huge risk.

Would he know unconsciously to breathe through his nose, or could Credence accidentally make him wake up from choking on his cock?

He decided he could just get himself close, and then finish in the man’s mouth, maybe, or over his lips.

Credence could barely keep himself upright as he started to tug over his cock, and mindless babbling was all he could muster, words that he would never be able to say aloud normally but he could not help but fall into there.

As he knelt before his new god, _over_ his impossible object of desire, a benediction escaped from his lips,

“Mister Graves…”

The head of his cock pressed against the man’s cheek, the scratch of stubble blindingly good, surprising him, and causing his hips to stutter, as he tried to keep a steady rhythm of fucking into his own hand.

He hated himself, he loved Mister Graves, and all he knew was that magic had both helped and ruined him.

Tears stung at his eyes when his orgasm finally overtook him, and he shuddered on a sigh, spilling white ropes that landed across the man’s face and even up into his hair, over his pillow.

Desecration of an altar, that was the crime he had let himself commit.

Credence would have to redeem himself doubly so now.

He shuffled back, frantically wiping away his mess with the hem and corner of his robe, which he knew he would have to wash, before he moved to straddle the strong body beneath him, scattering kisses everywhere, whispering how sorry he was, forever, and always.

He put his mouth to the man’s stomach, and he could feel Mister Graves’ body trembling, but Credence didn’t know if it had come from _him_ , or was just a natural reaction to being touched, while deeply asleep.

Mister Graves’ cock stirred from a hand, and then a slow lick, even as his body remained out, and when Credence finally managed to take the head into his mouth, he vowed to choke on his salvation.

His penance was that, there, kneeling in a way for his new God.

Mister Graves’ cock hardened quickly on his tongue, and his jaw ached the longer he sucked and swallowed around the length of it, but Credence wasn’t going to stop, not until he was sure the man had finished.

Strong thighs framed his shoulders, twitching and trying to tighten further, to seek out friction, but Credence did his best to clamp down firmly, to keep them spread as he licked and swallowed around the man’s cock.

A noise escaped the man’s throat, and Credence almost died of fright.

It was just a reaction to such wondrous feelings, clearly echoing in his sleep. No dreams could ever form, and it was almost a shame to him.

Bitter salty slick flowed freely over his tongue now, and Credence could feel his own cock stirring again. He couldn’t help being intrigued at how he derived pleasure from supplicating himself as he was. Daringly, as much as he could be, for what else could he do that wouldn’t equally condemn him, Credence’s hand slid down to cup over the delicate skin of the man’s sack, and he rubbed a finger against the swell of his balls, forcing a moan from the man’s unconscious voice.

Moments later, the man’s cock pulsed down Credence’s throat, and he pulled back only to watch the final movements, the way the veins twitched, and the length stilled, coming to rest over the man’s stomach, relaxed once more.

Credence swallowed several times, but the strange taste remained, and he could see Mister Graves’ chest had a sheen of sweat on it.

From him.

He did that.

Sinful wretch as he was, he brought Mister Graves to orgasm. But there was more to see. Between a man’s legs, that could be where one lost their virginity, like as a woman. Credence dragged a finger further down, following a virtual line from the man’s sack to his hole, a delicate pink whorl, almost the same shade as the tip of his cock.

Credence gulped, and pressed against it, feeling Mister Graves’ muscle flutter, and he wondered if there was magic to aid, to make it easier to caress, to derive pleasure from. Surely, if there was magic to sleep, there could be magic to enhance other things.

He didn’t want to hurt the man, so he stopped, he withdrew his hand, and re-tied his robe about his body. That was quite enough exploring for one night, though his own body was still strung as taught as a bow, he carefully covered the man back up, and spared a chaste kiss to his temple.

“Sleep well, Mister Graves.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Credence had barely started the ritual, the routine for him, which every night had become and suddenly found himself pinned to the bed, on his back looking up at Mister Graves’ bewildered expression.

He heaved in a shaky breath, and squeezed his eyes shut.

He would probably be given a last rite, then killed silently, with a spell he knew surely existed.

“What are you doing?”

Credence had no words, no excuses, he was going to die.

“If you wanted to join me in bed, all you had to do was ask, my boy.”

Credence bit his lip, and tried to remain still, not quite daring to hope yet, as he _felt_ the man’s eyes drag down the length of his body. He’d only put on a short robe that night, nothing underneath, nothing was _needed_ , not when he planned to put his mouth to the man’s cock, and then prepare himself to sit atop it.

“You’re naked.”

Mister Graves said it like a matter of fact, not a condemnation, and Credence wasn’t certain, but upon peeking his eyes open, he _thought_ the man’s own gaze had darkened.

“Yes?”

He confirmed, his voice halfway between a squeak and a rasp.

“Any particular reason you’ve come to me, like this, thinking I was asleep?”

Mister Graves pressed his hips down, hard, and then retreated again, and Credence’s heart nearly skipped a beat as he felt something dig into his thigh.

“No?”

The man’s laughter vibrated through him, sending sparks down his spine, and Credence was on the verge of passing out or spontaneously orgasming from so much sheer bodily contact, he wasn’t sure what was worse.

“Why do I get the feeling this isn’t the first time this has happened?”

“Oh god... God forgive me.”

“Your _god i_ s quite the buzzkill. Why, ‘ _man shall not lie with man_ ’ and all that.”

Mister Graves’ hand warmed his stomach, and slid down, dangerously close to touching his-

“Mister Graves!”

“Is this not what you want? You come to me, like this, and expect me to keep my hands to myself? Naked, in my bed… that’s a recipe for mischief, dear boy.”

Credence shivered at the words, the change in tone, then the man was kissing him, stealing his gasp, his half hearted protest, and the broad palm he’d dreamt of touching him, was actually grinding against his cock, making his back arch and his hips thrust up, begging for more, and seeking out the-

“Oh, you’re so hard. I think I know why you’re here then.”

The man’s lips and tongue and hint of his teeth were now on Credence’s neck, while his hand slipped under the hem of his robe, grasping his cock more firmly, and stroking once, twice, before he was crying out, spilling into the man’s palm, making a mess of the robe too no doubt.

“Oh god, I’m sorry Mister Graves, I didn’t-”

“Shh-hh, nonsense. You’re so wound up, my boy. You just need to relax. I’m going to take very good care of you. Time I return the favor… hmm?”

Credence’s eyes widened as the man’s hand, dripping with his come, pressed over his mouth, and he gave it a tentative lick, unsure what was going to happen next.

 

“Did you think I didn’t have any security on my room? Did you think I wouldn’t have wards monitoring us both, after what we’ve been through?”

Credence’s blood ran cold, and his mind caught up to what the man meant.

“No…”

“Yes. You have been taking advantage of my hospitality.”

Credence’s eyes squeezed shut tight, and his stomach clenched, as his bladder released itself, wetting the robe and the sheets beneath his thighs, and his cock twitched pitifully against his leg, fear and confusion gripping him as hard as the fingers now were on his jawline.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” His throat tightened, and a painful lump formed as tears began to form.

Mister Graves’ nostrils flared, and his eyes darkened further,

“I’m not. I had no idea I was hosting such a sexual pervert. You came on my face, and did a shitty job of cleaning it, _dear_ boy. I should whip you for such a crime.”

Credence was trembling, the threat had the exact opposite effect it should have, as his cock made a valiant effort to harden again, despite having just emptied itself of all he had left inside him.

“Why didn’t you stop me sooner? If you knew all this time…”

Mister Graves clicked his tongue against his teeth, and hummed thoughtfully, dropping his hand from Credence’s mouth, before leaning down to kiss him again. It was very different than the first, with more of a bite to it. The man then moved his hand to grip hard at Credence’s throat, breaking the kiss,

“I wanted to see how far you’d go, how much you would debase me, for your own pleasure.”

“I didn’t mean to… It wasn’t meant to be-”

“Come now, my dear boy, you don’t have to pretend any more. You want me, you’ve taken from me several times now. I think it’s only fair if you give me something in return.”

Credence gaped at him, still shivering in fear, as well as cold, from the dampness clinging to his skin, as well as the chill that seemed to fill the room out of nowhere.

“What do you want? I’ll do anything you ask.”

Anything to redeem himself truly, Credence was prepared to prostrate himself, ready to kneel at his god’s feet, to lick his shoe, to beg for his life.

“I want your virginity. I want to hear you cry out my name when I break you with my cock, fill you with my seed. You treated me like your personal possession, so now you can be _mine_.”

Credence was already nodding, desperately, and Mister Graves just grinned at him, stroking the hand away from his neck, down his chest, skirting down the side of his ribs, and then gripping hard on his hip, enough to leave bruises from his fingertips that surely wouldn’t fade for days to come.

“You’re filthy, why don’t you let me clean you? It won’t hurt.”

Credence blinked, and felt magic wringing him dry, and probing him deep where he’d never once thought to touch himself, and his hands fell to fist in the sheets. Then the man returned to loom over him, had knelt between his legs, which he quickly spread, trying to be as obedient as possible.

“Should I fuck you without any preparation? Would you have done it to me, eventually?”

Credence’s eyes widened, and he shook his head at once,

“No! Sir, never. I would never hurt you.”

Mister Graves didn’t look convinced, as he ripped away the robe still covering some of Credence’s body, fully exposing him, and then guiding his legs up, apart still, nudging into his chest.

“Hold on to your knees.”

That was all the warning he got before the man was touching him, roughly thumbing over his hole, and making him keen aloud, while a cool slickness aided the digit that slipped into him, pushing deeper than he was ready for, though it did make his cock harden halfway as it rested over his stomach.

“Hmm, very tight indeed.”

Mister Graves appeared intrigued, and then Credence felt a second finger nudge inside with the first, scissoring painfully, though still stimulating, as new sensitive areas were grazed over for the first time, and the man was stroking over his own cock with his free hand.

Credence knew it would be wrong to ogle him, since he’d more than had his fill over the last week, but he couldn’t help it, he stared. The man’s cock was completely hard, an angry red at the tip, as clear fluid dribbled out when his calloused palm fisted around it.

“Have you missed the sight of it? Do you think of me naked when we dine together? When I give you books to read while I work all day, are you defiling my couch, and your guest room? Have I made a mistake in caring for you?”

For, not _about_ , Credence noted, deep down in his subconscious, before shaking his head vigorously.

“No sir! No. I _do_ study, I try to learn new spells and things. I am not self abusing when you’re not at home.”

Mister Graves barked out a laugh, sounding more angry with himself than Credence, giving him a momentary bit of relief, before a third finger speared him open wider, and he arched into it, while gasping for air.

“Of course, you still call it that. You know, it’s not a crime, unless you’re taking advantage of someone while seeking out your own pleasure. You should know this.”

Credence’s hole burned, even when the fingers inside him rubbed against something that had his vision starting to go spotty, and his cock throbbed, aching for a touch that he was afraid to ask for.

“I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I never thought I could have this, I thought it was the only way to be with you…”

Mister Graves sighed, and almost seemed to wilt, to lose a touch of the frustration that had a hold on him,

“My boy, if you never open your mouth, you will _never_ get what you want in life. _Imperio_.”

Credence’s struggling, if any, ceased at once, and his head fell back onto the pillow, watching as Mister Graves leaned down, and spit onto his fingers, as they worked between his legs.

It was dirty, bordering on rude, so he should flinch away, but he couldn’t move. No, not couldn’t, he doesn’t want to.

His will no longer belonged to him.

Credence knew it was magic keeping him light and airy, but it might as well have been his guilt, rooting him to the spot, making him hold his legs as wide as they could go, tight against his chest, until his nipples were sore from being trapped under his thighs, and Mister Graves withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his cock inside his hole.

The man didn’t thrust slowly, but rather buried his cock completely in Credence, with one swift press.

He was stopped from dropping his jaw at the shock of overwhelming sensations, but he could still come. Credence’s orgasm crashed over him, as the head of the man’s cock hit just right onto something deep inside him, though his eyes stayed open, tears stung them, and he cried out, sobbing at how good it felt, though he remained frozen, he could not meet every pull and push of Mister Graves’ cock into him, or chase as it dragged back out.

“Good boy. You’re under my control. See how helpless you are? I can do anything I want.”

The man smacked one of his exposed asscheeks, and Credence didn’t make a sound, he just accepted it. Though he was frightened, he couldn’t do anything else.

Mister Graves fucked him harshly, without mercy or tenderness, and when the man came, it was with a long low groan. He stilled enough so Credence could _feel_ warmth filling him even further in than he’d been touched.

“You can come again. I believe in you. What did you want to do to me, did you put your mouth on my cock that night and think yourself forgiven?”

Mister Graves lowered himself to kiss Credence’s slackened jaw, and then down, past the puddle of come on his chest, and he licked a stripe up the side of his softened cock, which was now hypersensitive so much as to hurt, and he knew, he would have screamed if he could.

Then fingers probed him, sliding in along where the man’s come had begun to seep out of his sore used hole, and Mister Graves’ mouth followed, licking and sucking and kissing over Credence’s rim, in a semblance of kindness.

His cock burned, aching with the need to come and with lack of will to force it. So the magic did the work, pushed blood into it, hardening slowly but surely, and Mister Graves’ tongue dipped into his hole as the pleasure outweighed the pain, at least for the moment.

Tears slipped freely out from Credence’s eyes, wetting his cheeks, and the touching stopped, the man pulled away, and he could breathe, although magic still holds him in place, keeping him pliant and open.

“Who do you belong to, _pet_?”

Credence’s voice trembled with fear and unwillingness, but he replied,

“You, Mister Graves.”

“Good.”

Fingers dragged through the mess on his skin, and two then forced in between his lips, as he sucked the man’s digits clean of his own come, he blinked up at him.

“Will you let me sleep now?” Mister Graves asked, voice a low murmur.

Credence would have nodded if he could have, so he simply did what he was ordered. He remained there, lying on the man’s bed, bent in half, as if ready to be fucked again, for a dozen heart stopping long minutes. Drool had begun to slip out of his mouth, as the man’s hand kept him from closing it properly.

Mister Graves laughed, and finally pulled his hand back, before putting it to his cock again, which could be threatening even while soft.

“Could be worse, right? You could have been cruel to me while I slept. Could have forced me to do things that would really make me angry. You only meant well. Didn’t you?”

Credence swallowed, he was allowed that.

“Open your mouth.”

Mister Graves didn’t need to speak, magic continued to make Credence do whatever the man could demand of him, but it was more for emphasis, to prove his point.

He got up off the bed and thrust his hips into Credence’s face, his cock nearly smacking him on his cheek.

“Suck, lips tight now.”

Credence’s eyes met Mister Graves’ as he realized what was happening, and he would have cried, if he had it left in him, but he didn’t. He just sucked hard, swallowing every drop that the man pissed into his throat, until he could feel the man’s cock hardening again, and the stream tapered off, he pulled back.

“That’s enough, I think.”

At last, the spell released Credence, and he could pant for air, cry freely, before he felt himself being cleaned with more magic, and then pulled into the man’s arms, carried away.

 

Darkness overtook his vision, and the next morning, when he woke up alone, he was more than a little confused, and more surprising, completely naked under his covers. When he stumbled out to breakfast, his thighs almost gave out underneath him, and he frowned. What had he done the night before?

Mister Graves was already up, cooking something that smelled amazing, and if he thought the man smiled differently, he could always blame it on his silly hopeless crush. There was no way the man could possibly return his feelings, it just would be ridiculous.

“Did you sleep well Mister Graves?”

Credence asked, as he often did, somewhat teasing, for of course, with the potion, the man got plenty of rest.

“Thank you Credence, I did. And yourself?”

“I think so.”

“Oh?”

Credence’s cheeks flared with heat before he could hide behind the morning paper, and he just nodded.

“What’s wrong, my boy?”

Credence’s eyes lifted to find Mister Graves watching him most intently,

“I’m sore, but I don’t know why.”

The man reached out a hand, and cupped his cheek, making breathing the most difficult thing to do all of a sudden, and Credence swore the man was looking down at his mouth.

“Perhaps you were fighting someone in your dreams.”

“Perhaps.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**end**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> im super sorry but also im not.


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